


The Real World

by greerian



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Fluff and Smut, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Marriage, Post-Canon, Summer, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerian/pseuds/greerian
Summary: Title from the Owl City song of the same name.“We’re going to trip,” Kevin murmurs.“Then let go,” Arnold replies.





	1. Chapter 1

 Arnold has spent four hours straight in the garden today. He counted. Kevin stayed inside, mostly, but popped out enough times, offering water and snacks, that Arnold guestimate by now it’s… two-ish? Plenty of the day left. 

He sits back on his heels, brushing the dirt on his hands off on his thighs. Not bad, really; he got the tomatoes and cucumbers weeded, the green beans staked up, and maybe found a way to keep the birds off the blackberry bush. Arnold smirks. They found a use for his mom’s old bridal veil after all. 

“Hey,” he hears. Kevin’s standing there, when Arnold glances over his shoulder, and shrugs in response when Arnold waves. There are mugs in his hands. “I made tea.” 

“Oh, hey, cool.” Arnold gets up, grinning at the knee-shaped imprints he left behind, and walks over to him. “What kind?” 

“Mint,” he says, handing a mug over. It’s cool in Arnold’s hands. “I stuck it in the cellar.” 

Arnold presses a kiss to his cheek. “I was gonna say, I was wondering why you’d make hot tea in, like, July. But you’re _way_ too smart for me, aren’t you?” 

“Don’t say that,” Kevin chides, but he’s turning red anyway. And the tea is great. Arnold tells Kevin so many times that Kevin is pretty much scarlet under his tan by the time they sit on their makeshift bench at the garden’s edge. It’s made from a cracked slab of shale, propped up with some chunks of concrete Arnold and his dad lugged home. Not the most stable, sturdy, or comfortable, but it beats sitting on the ground. Arnold is just starting to relax into it when-

“Do you remember drinking mint tea, back before all this happened?” Kevin asks. 

Arnold can only see his profile, not enough to tell how Kevin feels, but he nods anyway. That mint tea came from a box; this is from herbs Kevin grew, dried, and steeped himself. That was bought at a supermarket, and was brewed with water from a tap, heated on an electric stove. The water for this came from a well, and was heated in a pot over an open flame. There’s a speck of ash, floating on the surface of Arnold’s drink. He sips it down and ignores the taste. 

Things used to be very different, that’s for sure. Life as Arnold remembered it doesn’t exist anymore. Sure, they’re trying; life isn’t bad now. But electricity is still gone. The internet maybe still exists, Arnold isn’t sure of the science of it all, but nobody he knows has been able to access it. Life is isolated, and strange. And wild. 

When the crisis hit, states all across America gave up on the basic, mundane activities Arnold didn’t realize contributed so much to his life. Trash pickup, street maintenance, tax collection. All resources went straight into repair and relief efforts. None of it worked. 

Slowly, Arnold watched his neighborhood fall apart. People threw rotting food into the street; they drove their cars until they ran out of gas and killed themselves with their last bullets. Lawns grew unchecked, houses were broken into, animals roamed free. People died. A lot of people. After a month, Arnold’s dad sat their little family down and declared: “ _We have to get out of here._ ” 

Dad’s family owned a farm, out on the plains. The Cunninghams packed up as much useful stuff as they could - a whole lot less than Arnold thought - and one scrapbook, in the family van. They were leaving at sunrise the next morning. 

At midnight, Kevin Price knocked on their door. 

Arnold didn’t ask what happened to his family. Kevin brought gold and silver and beef jerky with him, and that was good enough for Arnold’s parents. So the four of them drove out to the Cunningham’s farm, and the four of them cleaned out and repaired the old dusty house, and the four of them re-domesticated the hens and the goats and the two cows, left to roam across the fifty acres without a care. 

They were lucky - really lucky. The house had books on gardening, animal care, living a life like the one they were stuck in. Arnold learned by candlelight and swallowed back hysterical laughter when Kevin muttered “We’re like the effing pioneers, take two.” 

Except the pioneers never had electricity to help them in the first place. No running water, no processed food. No need to relearn how to sew and weave and cook and grow, just to have their basic needs provided for. The pioneers didn’t break down when they realized they would never talk to their friends in Uganda, or New York, or even Wyoming, again. 

But the pioneers didn’t have Kevin, either. The pioneers probably didn’t have parents who got over the stiff Mormon sticks up their butts and let their son and his best friend become more than best friends because “Screw it, Marlene, the world’s already come to an end, anyway.” 

Winter was hard, the first time. They lost a cow, seven hens, most of the garden, and almost Arnold’s mom, before the last frost. They learned, though. They fought. They survived. 

“I think this tastes better,” Arnold says, sipping at his tea again. “Yeah… definitely better than I remember.” 

Kevin shoves him. They’re almost twenty-eight now, the two of them. They’re tanned to hell and back; Kevin complains about the state of his skin and hair every day. But they’re doing okay, Arnold thinks. They’re in good health.

There’s a traveling doctor who comes around every few years who gives check ups, and learned her way around some natural remedies. “Now, cancer I can’t cure,” she says, “but anything else, I’ll give it a shot.” 

She grinned, slapped Mr. Cunningham on the back, and set off again, worn hiking boots dragging against the dust of their gravel road. 

She’s the one who told them about the town, a day’s walk south-east. Sometimes Dad, Mom, Arnold and Kevin will all set out for it, spend a few days around other people again. There’s art in town, and imitation coffee, and even a blacksmith who turned one of Kevin’s silver spoons into two rings, one for each of them. There’s a justice of the peace who hasn’t been reelected since before the crisis but swears his signature on their marriage license will be binding. There’s an old woman who bakes them a wedding cake. 

“Is it weird that I’m glad, a little bit?” Arnold asks. 

“What, that the tea tastes good?” Kevin chuckles. 

“Nah. No, that’s stupid. That… this. Y’know?” Arnold waves his hand out at the garden. The gravel road stretched out beyond it, out to the old county road, riddled with cracks and weeds. The sky is blue and clear above the two of them, and the patch of stone they’re sitting on is hot. The tea is kind of luke-warm, now. “I… I like gardening.” 

“Oh,” Kevin says. “You could have gardened before.” 

Arnold snorts. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t’ve. Wouldn’t’ve lost weight, either.” 

“I liked your tummy,” Kevin says, smirking, just before sharp fingers pinch Arnold’s gut. “See? Not as much cushion anymore.” 

“You _jerk_ ,” Arnold replies, rubbing the spot. “Your hands are too strong!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault Abby’s the only one who’ll let me milk her.” 

Kevin’s extremely smug about that. Abigail II, the most stubborn goat on the farm, absolutely loves him, and he’s the only human being touch her. Not even the cool old neighbor guy to the north can get close. Arnold wondered for a long time how that worked. Kevin… was never the most friendly, or good with animals. They avoided him like the plague in Uganda, really, but it was like Abby adored him, now. Turns out there was an old gallon jug of molasses in the barn behind hay bales in the loft, and Kevin would slick his hand with it before feeding Abby and the herd at dawn. 

Kevin was fuckin’ _smart_. 

 “Yeah, yeah,” Arnold mutters. “Not my fault plants need a more delicate touch, anyway.” 

“I can do delicate!” 

Arnold scoffs. 

“I’ll show you delicate, mister,” Kevin declares. 

Suddenly his mug is on the ground and his hands are in Arnold’s shirt; his mouth is on Arnold’s neck and he whispers “How ‘bout I tease you ‘til you’re crying, huh? How about I touch you everywhere but where you want it, and we see how delicate I can be.” 

“Woah- _ho_ ,” Arnold teases, grinning, “did somebody get a little worked up, sticking inside all day?” 

“Canning is frustrating,” Kevin mutters. “I wanted to be out here with you.” His lips trace a tantalizing path down Arnold’s neck. 

“You’re not kidding,” Arnold says; his voice is getting hoarse. “Hey, maybe you should let me rinse off a little?” 

Kevin leans back just enough to raise his eyebrows. “I stink, Kev. Been workin’ outside all day?” 

Kevin huffs. “I don’t care.” 

“…okay, then.” Arnold grins, tosses the rest of his tea on the nearest zucchini plant, and stands. “I’m all yours for the rest of the afternoon.” 

Kevin’s grin is wicked. “ _Fantastic_.” 

“Oh,” Arnold’s mom says, when they traipse into the kitchen with their hands in each other’s back pockets a minute later. “I… I guess I’ll go for a walk.” 

“Bye, Marlene!” Kevin says cheerfully. 

Arnold flicks water from the wash basin outside, dripping from his hands, at Kevin’s face. 

“Hey, that feels good,” Kevin says. “Do it again?”

Arnold cups Kevin’s cheeks in reply, and Kevin flat out _moans_. 

“All right, I think I’ll just-” Mom stammers, slapping her oven mitts down. “I’ll be back later. J- _behave_ , boys, all right?” 

Arnold laughs. “Sure, Mom.” 

“‘Sure’?” Kevin echoes. 

“I said I’m yours until the sun goes down,” Arnold murmurs, tugging him close by his belt loops. “So you’ll be the one misbehaving, right?” 

Kevin kisses his laughter into Arnold’s mouth, all the way back to the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

“We’re going to trip,” Kevin murmurs.

“Then let go,” Arnold replies.  It’s Kevin’s hands at Arnold’s belt now, and Kevin pressing the two of them to the side of the stairs, and Kevin kissing Arnold like he’s dying for it.

Arnold grins against his mouth.

Kevin groans but detangles, and in a second is running upstairs like a shot. Arnold laughs and chases him up.

“What got into you today?” Arnold asks, as Kevin flops onto their bed and he’s left to shut the bedroom door. “You’re  normally  more, uh…”

Subdued.

Kevin shrugs, smirks. “I don’t know; I want you,” he says. “I want you.”

He doesn’t try and defend it. He doesn’t give a reason. His eyes flick away from Arnold’s for a second, but only a second. They return, and Kevin’s gaze stays steady.

Arnold feels a wave of heat, completely separate from the summer’s warmth outside, wash through him. He shivers.

Kevin’s smirk gets a little more dirty. “C’mere,” he says, tugging on the buttons of his shirt.

Arnold doesn’t get more than a glance before he complies, stripping out of his boots, his jeans, his shirt, and his underwear on his way over. He clambers up onto the bed as Kevin gets his shirt all the way off, and doesn’t bother trying to be sexy as he crawls on hands and knees over to him. 

Arnold doesn’t even notice the smell of sweat. It’s been a few years since that disgusted him, and even back in Uganda, there were way worse smells. Sweat  just  means a good day’s work, now. It blends right in with the sweetness of hay, moldiness of earth, and smoke from the kitchen hearth.

But sweat is definitely not all Arnold smells of right now. The stink of armpits without deodorant hits him and Kevin at about the same time. Kevin’s nose wrinkles; Arnold laughs.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” he says, sitting back. “I did warn you.”

“I know,” Kevin replies, making a face. “But you smell like _man_.”

“What the hell did you _think_ I was gonna-”

“No, it’s fine,” Kevin interrupts, grinning. “I forgot how, um, strong it was, for a second there. You usually clean up for me.”

“Yeah, and you _usually_ let me get my work done,” Arnold retorts, folding his arms.

“Hey, no, don’t get upset,” Kevin says, reaching for him. “I don’t care, like I said. Arnold… _Arnold_ ,  really, your mom is only gonna be gone for so long,  just  -”

It takes Kevin tugging on his arm, and Kevin’s foot kicking at his thigh, to get Arnold to cave. But when he does, it’s right onto Kevin’s splayed, denim-covered legs. Arnold props himself on his elbows. It’s not a bad view.

“So what’re you in the mood for?” he asks, as Kevin blushes down at him. Pretty much  all of  Arnold  is displayed  like this, and he wiggles his butt when Kevin’s eyes trace down to it. “You haven’t done me in a while. Or… I could…?”

Kevin didn’t quite get around to unzipping his jeans, but they  are unbuttoned  and about two inches from Arnold’s mouth, as it happens. He grins, and leans in.

“No!”

Arnold looks up.

“That’s, uh… not what I was thinking,” Kevin says, shoving a hand through his hair. He’s looking away; his adam’s apple bobs. Arnold scoots back again, until Kevin’s shoulders drop. Kevin is… weird about sex, sometimes. Sometimes it goes great, smooth as a whistle, mind-blowing and everything. Then, sometimes…

“We don’t have to,” Arnold ventures, like he does every time.

“I want to,” Kevin replies, like he always does.

“You sure?”

They play this game a lot.

Kevin straightens up against the pillows again. He smiles. One hand slides into Arnold’s hair, and he says “You’ve spent enough time on your knees today; don’t you agree?”

Arnold swallows; nods.

“I want to show you…” Kevin murmurs, tugging him up until Arnold’s blanketing him. They fit together the way Arnold loves. “I wanna take care of you today.”

“...okay?” Arnold whispers. “I, uh, don’t know what that mea-”

Kevin tilts his head, and shuts Arnold up with a kiss.

_Okay_ , Arnold thinks.

It’s another kiss the likes of which Kevin never gives him in front of his parents.  That’s  probably  good - Arnold always reacts the same way - but sometimes it feels like this is the only time Arnold sees the old Kevin. His mission companion, the perfect Mormon, that guy full of fire and passion and  just  \- _life_. Arnold loves him, but he thinks,  maybe , the crisis sent that part of Kevin into hiding.  When they kiss like this, though, with Kevin’s tongue licking into Arnold’s mouth, and both hands in Arnold’s hair, Kevin gets excited again. He’s careless. He’s messy.

He’s free.

Arnold’s hands find Kevin’s hips and he holds on tight.  The position they’re in is going to make his thighs hurt like hell later, but it’s worth crouching over Kevin’s hips to keep both hands on him  .  Arnold’s ass brushes against Kevin’s jeans; Kevin’s falling back against the pillows and dragging Arnold down with him. His hands tug Arnold’s hair, once, twice, three times- Arnold moans into his hot mouth.

Kevin answers with a satisfied hum  just  before his teeth catch on Arnold’s lower lip; _that’s_ a new one.

“Come on,” he mutters. “Come on, Arnold, I-”

Suddenly  his hips arch up; the roughness of Kevin’s jeans scratches  just  the right itch. Arnold cries out.

“There we go,” Kevin murmurs, like he's talking to himself. “C’mon, Arnold, lemme-” He shoves Arnold to the side. “I said I was going to take care of you, didn’t I?”

“Uh-huh,” Arnold agrees. “But I said I didn’t know what that meant, and you-”

“Arnold!  Just  …  just  let me…” Now it’s Arnold on his back, Kevin kneeling over him, and Arnold takes his time admiring the view.  There was a picture Arnold saw once, of a guy in jeans  just  like Kevin’s, posing like a pin-up girl in the neon lights of some shady bar  . The golden light through the shades here is the furthest thing from the lurid pink and blue of that picture. Kevin’s hair is shaggy and thick, while the model’s  was buzzed  . And Kevin’s wearing his wedding ring.

Arnold likes this picture better.

His hand tangles with Kevin’s, and as Kevin’s jaw works, trying to find the right words, Arnold kisses around the metal on his ring finger.

Kevin blinks. “Arnold, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“About the best way to take care of me, whatever the hell _that_ means,” Arnold replies. “Why can’t we  just...  fuck?”

Kevin’s hand stiffens. If Arnold wasn’t holding it, he wouldn’t have had any idea.

“Kev?”

“I don’t want to ‘just _fuck_ ,’” Kevin says. “Arnold… why don’t you get it?”

“...get what?”

“Look,” Kevin takes his hand back. “I love you. We’re married. It’s been years, Arnold, and you… you  just  …”

Kevin’s messing up his hair again. Arnold waits for him to figure whatever this is out.

“You’re good to me,” he murmurs, finally.

“Well, yeah,” Arnold replies. “Kevin, you’re my husband. Of course I’m gonna be good to you.”

Kevin huffs. But a smile breaks across his face, then, and he meets Arnold’s eyes at last.

“That’s what I mean,” he says.

“Huh. Okay?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?”

“N… not  really, no.”

Arnold has a lap full of Kevin again in a second, as Kevin’s hands cup his cheeks.

“That’s why I have to show you,” Kevin whispers. “I love you, Arnold.”

“You too,” Arnold manages to get out, even as Kevin rocks his hips down. “A- always.”

They’ve danced this dance before. It’s familiar and warm, and it feels _good_. It didn’t feel so good the first time, but the first time they  were scared. They were quiet, fumbling in the dark.

_Make sure your parents don’t hear!_

_I'm trying!_

 

_Does it hurt too much?_

_ Just  …  just  keep going. I’ll be fine in a minute._

Arnold came within seconds. Kevin did not.

But this is better. They’re better at this. Kevin’s hands tug at  just  the right strength on Arnold’s thick hair. He knows the best position for his knees, to keep them both from aching tomorrow. They’re used to being together; they’re practiced, now. Arnold lets himself get lost in it.

Kevin says something. Arnold tears his gaze from the flushed fullness of his lips.

“Huh?”

“I _said_ ,” Kevin tells him, sitting back. He’s smirking. “I’m going to suck you off.  I’m going to work you up, until you’re right there, ready to come, and then- then you’re going to watch as I get ready for you, and I'm going to ride you. Okay?”

Kevin laughs at whatever stupid look his words painted across Arnold’s face.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he whispers, backing down the bed until he’s level with Arnold’s waist. With one last glance up, he presses a kiss centered between his hipbones.

“You taste like sweat,” Kevin mutters.

“H-hey,” Arnold starts, but Kevin smirks against his skin and adds “Not that I’m complaining.”

He’s  _really_ not complaining - the kisses trail across Arnold’s hips until Kevin has caressed every inch of skin there. Not where Arnold needs his mouth, no, but _god_ , does that feel good.

“C’mon,” Kevin says. “I know you want to put your hands in my hair. Come on; do it, Arnold.”

All Arnold can do in reply is moan his gratitude and obey.

“There we go,” Kevin croons. “  Just  like that. Hold me like that.”

His lips press at the line where hip meets thigh, then further down.  Just  onto the meat of Arnold’s leg, though, still not between. Still not where he promised.

“You… you’re gonna…” Arnold gasps. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good,” Kevin replies.

His hands brace on either side of the bed, and Arnold watches as Kevin prepares himself. It's in the tightness around his eyes. But he softens; hesitates. His left hand smooths down the hair on Arnold's leg  fondly. He smiles.

"I  really  love you," he says, meeting Arnold's eyes. "Every inch of you."

"You too," Arnold replies. He is trying to hold still, he really is, but Kevin's palm is hot and so very close to where he _needs_ it... "Kev, _please_."

"Oh." Kevin grins. "Yeah, okay."

He steels himself again, then leans in. When Kevin opens his mouth, the gentle tease of his breath is  painfully  hot. But he only stays there for a second. No more hesitating - his lips close tight around Arnold's cock. Arnold  is wrapped  in wetness and heat. He arches into it and cries out.

"Easy," Kevin whispers, "I can't take you all the way, pal."

"S-sorry," Arnold stammers, "sorry, Kevin, I didn't-"

"Maybe  the next time your parents go on a trip, we can try it deeper. But I need to be able to talk tomorrow."

If they weren't doing what they're doing - if Arnold wasn't already flushed from head to toe - he would be blushing. Kevin knows it, too. He smirks when Arnold looks down at him, even though he's already going down again.

"...thank you," Arnold whispers,  pathetically.

Kevin always has had the power to take him apart. With words, with his hands, with a smile. Always - Arnold has never been able to resist him.  He definitely isn't now, not with Kevin's tongue sweeping over and around his dick, with his lips forming a tight seal that goes further and further until-

"Oh, _god_ \- God, Kevin!"

Arnold feels the back of Kevin's throat. It's only by the grace of God he holds still, then. Even imagining going further, fucking into him, tugs Arnold to the edge of his release.

"Kevin, I'm-"

Kevin pulls away.

Arnold knew it was coming, but that doesn't stop the whine he makes. Kevin  just  feels so good, so _right_ , and now he's climbing off the bed.

"Stop making grabby hands, Arnold, I'm  just  getting my jeans off."

Arnold starts, then tugs his hands to his chest.

"I didn't, uh..."

Kevin lets his jeans fall. 

"You're not wearing...?"

Kevin shakes his head, smiling. "I told you, I want you," he says. "I thought your mom might be willing to go for a walk today, so I..."

Arnold grins from ear to ear.

"You're so awesome."

Kevin chuckles. "That's what I like to hear."

"C'mon up here," Arnold says. "Can I, uh... help get you ready?"

"Uh-uh," Kevin says, wagging his finger. "I'm taking care of you, remember? Sit back and relax, bud." He rests his hand right in the center of Arnold's chest and shoves. "Let me do this."

Arnold slumps to the mattress.

He watches, though, almost without blinking, as Kevin reaches for the bottle of oil they keep on the nightstand  . His eyes stay glued to Kevin's fingers, as Kevin slicks them and reaches back.  Then he focuses on Kevin's face, catching every little twitch or change in his expression: the wrinkle of his nose when he breaches himself at first; the lines on his forehead as he forces another finger in; the way his jaw goes slack when Arnold knows he's found his prostate.

"You look so good, Kevin," he murmurs. "You should see yourself, just..."

Kevin's eyes flutter open. "You always say stuff like that."

"It's always true."

Kevin rolls his eyes.

Arnold likes to think the red in his cheeks isn't  just  because he's got half his hand buried in his ass, though.

The soft squish and slick of the oil is the only sound in their room for a while. Kevin's breathing picks up, but he's always quiet during this part. It's like he doesn't want to show his own pleasure, sometimes. Like there's something wrong with getting off on your own hand.

"Next time," Arnold ventures, "I wanna finger you until you come."

Kevin blushes for sure now. "If that's what you want."

"Oh yeah. Until you're moaning for me. It's gonna be-"

Kevin eases his fingers out, and sits up.

"You ready?"

"...great. Uh. Yes! Yes, p-please."

Kevin's smiling again as he inches forward, settling over Arnold's hips and jacking his cock once, twice, to slick it up with the extra oil. A drop or so drips from his hands. Where they land on Arnold's hip feel like the strike of bullets, he's so sensitive. Arnold jerks into Kevin's grip.

"Not yet, pal," Kevin mutters. "Let me get settled first."

"Okay," Arnold breathes. "Yeah, okay, all the time you need, just... _just move_."

Kevin ignores him. His hands stays  firmly  on Arnold's dick as he eases back. The head brushes across the tender under-skin of Kevin's thighs. He's trying to find the right place.

" _Kevin_ -!" 

A triumphant sound, and Kevin sinks down onto Arnold's cock.

"I can take you all the way like this," he declares, sitting back.  His ass rests on Arnold's thighs, and Arnold can't  really  breathe, but- "And, you like this way better, don't you?"

"Yeah, yes, uh-huh. I love this, I- _oh_ , god, Kevin, I love this."

"Then come on, Arnold," Kevin says. "I know you want to fuck me."

Finally Arnold's hips snap up into him. Kevin groans.

"Yeah, like that, Arnold."

Again, and again - until Kevin looks as wrecked as Arnold feels; their faces both red, their bodies both slick with sweat  . Kevin braces his hands on his own thighs and rocks into Arnold's rhythm.

"Just  like that," Kevin murmurs. "You always do it  just  right. Arnold, you're... you're perfect."

Arnold moans.

"Wait, w-wait," Kevin says, setting a hand on his chest again. "Lemme... I'm taking care of you, Arnold, let me-"

But Arnold doesn't want to; he _can't_ wait anymore.

"Can't!" he gasps. "Kevin, I- I'm gonna..."

His fumbling hand finds Kevin's dick and pumps roughly.

"I- _Kevin_ ," he gasps out. His hips falter, then arch up into Kevin, hard. And that's it; Arnold's release hits like a train, hard and fast and going, going, _gone_. When he falls to the bed again, Kevin's hand is jacking himself, frantic and fast.

"Arnold," he cries. "Arnold, _Arnold_!"

He clenches around Arnold's dick; everything goes white, for a second.

But then the beautiful wet warmth of him is gone. The mattress shifts on Arnold’s right. Kevin's hand comes to rest of his chest.

"I said I wanted to take care of you."

Arnold chuckles with whatever air he's got left. "I got that," he replies. "And you did. You took care of me really,  really  well. I'm pretty sure I can't move.”

Kevin sighs.

"I mean it, Kev,” Arnold says, turning on his side to face him. “I feel… I feel awesome right now, really. And that’s ‘cause of you. All because of you.”

“But I wanted-”

“You _did_ ,” Arnold says. “You take care of me all the time, Kevin.”

Kevin still frowns; he’s not meeting Arnold’s gaze.

“Hey,” Arnold murmurs. “Look at me?”

Kevin does.

Arnold opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Instead, he tilts Kevin’s chin up  gently and kisses him, soft and slow.

“Love you,” he repeats.

Kevin breathes deep. Then he nods.

“You too,” he answers. “Always.”


End file.
